


Bless Me Father

by LaReineDuLune



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Contemplation and a Bit of Blasphemy, Fluff, M/M, Romance, monchevy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26872021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaReineDuLune/pseuds/LaReineDuLune
Summary: Philippe convinces his Chevalier to follow him on a quest for answers to the questions that torment his very soul.
Relationships: Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Bless Me Father

**Author's Note:**

> I found this unfinished 10k word fic buried deep in my fic folder and realized I never finished it or posted it. So despite having moved on to other fandoms, I wanted to share this with everyone who still reads and enjoys these lovely French lads and their legendary romance!

Bless Me Father  
©2020 La Reine Du Lune  
  
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” spoke the young man as he took his seat in the confessional. He made the sign of the cross, then closed his hands in reverent prayer, but then thought better of it and relaxed into the seat. The Priest sat dutifully opposite him, relatively new to Versailles. It seemed priests were hard to keep around the Palace. Inevitably they realized that in a place such as Versailles there was enough sin to drown an unsuspecting clergyman. Still, the Vatican kept sending them new ones. It was almost a game to some of the nobles, to see which one of them finally tipped the latest one over the edge. So far The Chevalier was up over Philippe by three to two. “It’s been, oh, a good seven months since my last confession, since I last returned from the most recent war with the Dutch. You know how it goes, come home, get absolved for all the people I killed on the battlefield.”

“Welcome my son, this is our first meeting, I am honoured,” the Priest replied. They were also so reverent to _him_ , given that he was the King’s brother. “Lives taken in times of war are readily absolved, your Highness. Tell me, what have you to confess today?”

“Well, actually, I’ve been sinning quite a bit less since I returned. I dare say the past few months I’ve been quite improved.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“I’m proud of myself, if I’m honest, though of course pride is a sin, isn’t it?”

“It is, but when one seeks to cleanse wickedness from their lives, there is no shame in feeling good about one’s self.”

“Ah, nice to hear it. I’m still of course committing copious amount of adultery on my wife, but now it’s just with the one man. But don’t worry, she wholeheartedly approves.”

Philippe smirked to himself when the Priest began to choke on his own air. He did feel a little sorry for the man.

“I… I… I beg your pardon?”

“Oh dear, did they not tell you? They usually do. Someone fell asleep on the job there. Well, to be brief, I prefer men. There’s been quite a few over the years, but honestly, I think I’ve sowed those wild oats, as has my dear Chevalier de Lorraine. We’ve been in love with each other since we were boys. We were fifteen years old when we met. He was my first, and he’ll be my last. He is also now my one and only. My wife adores him and they’re the best of friends. It does a heart good when the two people a man cares most for in this world get along like a house on fire. Thick as thieves those two. They certainly keep me on my toes.”

“Two men… two men cannot…”

“I assure you, two men, can, and in my case the Chevalier and I do, nearly every single day, and night come to think of it. And that brings me to the real reason for my visit, but just to get the confession part out of the way- sodomy, and lots of it. I have no intention of repenting, by the way, but I thank you for your prayers. That’s the crux of it, why repent when I love him more than my own life, more than King and country, more than anyone and anything else in the entire world? So my question is, when exactly did love become a sin? Don’t quote Leviticus, I saw you eating lobster at your welcome feast two weeks ago.”

“There, there are several passages, in the Old and the New Testament.”

“Romans, Timothy, Corinthians – letters from St. Paul, by the way, and not specifically the word of God or of Jesus; and best not forget Sodom and Gomorrah! They’ve all got vague passages that have been translated multiple times, and skewed to suit whatever the Church needs in order to control its people, fair enough. But then of course we come to Jesus Christ, and by the way, my Latin is impeccable, I’ve read Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John in their entirety, and in all his teachings, in all his new covenants, never once condemns me and my kind. Likes love though, loving your neighbour, helping the poor and less fortunate – my brother could do with a bit of that – and so on and so forth. “

Philippe paused, waiting for the Father to respond, but the poor fellow could only sputter. “Ah, too much all at once, eh?” Philippe offered. “Really, I just wanted to give you a proper welcome to life at the Palace. You’ll find there are a few genuinely devout souls here to tend to do, but I sir, will forever be a sinner in the eyes of the Church. But, as the good book teaches us, God loves me nonetheless. You should know that my brother’s good lady wife has resigned herself that I’m beyond salvation, so I caution you she’s tired of the subject of me and my beloved Chevalier. I will continue to be unabashedly myself and love the man I love fiercely and without shame. We are good, brave men, and our loving each other harms no one. Good day, Father.”

Philippe left the dismayed Priest where he sat and exited the chapel with a spring in his step. He found the Chevalier waiting for him outside. The air was crisp as the summer waned, but the sun still shone in the sky. He was greeted with a soft, full kiss that warmed his heart. How could a love this beautiful ever be considered wrong, he wondered? He smiled at the Chevalier and kissed him again, holding his face in his hands.

“Rankling the new Father?” the Chevalier inquired, linking arms with Philippe as they strolled along the path back towards their rooms in the Palace.

“Just welcoming him to life at Versailles. I’d almost pity the man if he didn’t believe I was going to Hell.”

“We could always change religions. The Ancient Greeks had some good ideas.”

“Shame we weren’t born a few thousand years ago.”

“I’d look fabulous in a toga. You could join the Band of Thebes.”

“No without you.”

“Well, I might concede, provided I got to stay back at camp and keep your cot warm.”

“Excellent plan. Speaking of plans, can you do without me for an hour? Liselotte said she wanted to see me in private, but that I was to keep you in the dark. So when you see her next, do pretend you’re oblivious.”

“I suppose. However will I occupy myself? I was hoping to take you behind a hedge and suck you off.” The Chevalier pouted and Philippe found it utterly adorable. He caught the Chevalier’s bottom lip in his and pulled him in for a kiss that left them both gasping for breath.

“I’ll find you later. Why don’t you take confession? It’s been how long since your last?”

“When did Father LaForgue leave us?”

“Six weeks past.”

“Six weeks then. My greatest victory. He’s scarred for life. I doubt there’s another man in all of France than he who knows how perfect your ass is. Save for myself of course. I was very, very descriptive.”

“Torturing Priests probably isn’t a very healthy past time for us, you know?”

“But it’s such fun.”

“Go on, welcome this new one as only you can, my sweet. I love you.”

“And I love you, my Mignonette.”

They shared another kiss and parted ways. Philippe watched he the Chevalier walked towards the chapel, verily strutting like a peacock, but Philippe knew his dear one was only putting on appearances. The pair of them had walked through fire to have the relationship they now treasured together. In the quiet of their rooms, or in the presence of a scant few people such as the Princess Palatine, they could be their true selves. In truth they’d become just like an old married couple, but still devotedly in love with each other.

Philippe lived for those moments when they could simply recline together on a chaise du lounge where the Chevalier would doze against his chest, as he read aloud from a book. Liselotte would be sat in the corner at her desk writing her letters and occasionally the Chevalier would tip his head backwards and bestow a kiss on the line of Philippe’s jaw before going back to his nap.

The Court never saw the Chevalier when he first awoke in the mornings and grumbled around not want to rise yes, pulling Philippe back down to the bed and caging him in arms and legs so he hadn’t a hope of escaping. They did not see how he doted on Liselotte, and how he brought her German pastries he commanded the Palace’s baker to make for her. They did not see the man who worshipped their Prince in their bed and made him feel as if he were the most treasured and loved man in the world. They did not see his kindness or his vulnerability, but Philippe did.

In recent months the pair of them had settled into blissful domesticity. Liselotte was a constant, and beloved by them both. They had no want of any but each other. They’d not discussed anything, but neither looked at other men beyond a fleeting, casual appreciation of beauty as when their eyes turned to each other, everyone else simply faded away.

He found Liselotte in their rooms, seated on the very chaise lounge where he and the Chevalier wiled away their hours doing little but enjoying each other. She was surrounded by books and stacks of paper, pensively examining one in particular.

“And what pray tell is the reason behind all this chaos?” Philippe asked as he entered.

“There you are!” she sighed in return, looking up from her page. “You’ve kept me waiting all morning.”

“I’m right on time!” He protested, but knew he deserved her admonishments. He was a half hour late. “I was at confession.”

Liselotte levelled him with a glare. “You and the Chevalier really must stop torturing the new priests. Your brother will lose his patience if he keeps having to write to the Vatican for a new one.”

“Must we?” The look he gave her was the very picture of innocence. She rolled her eyes and pushed several books on to the floor and patted the space next to him.

She passed the paper to him and he perused it, taking in that it was from the King’s Bishop, an ordinance issued some ten years past.

“So what is it that you’re showing me?” he asked.

“You really are thick sometimes.”

He handed the page back to her. “Would it not be easier for you to simply explained things to me?”

Liselotte sighed wearily. “Don’t bat your eyelashes at me. That only works on the Chevalier. And all he has to do his give you that look and you roll over like a dog and show your belly. Honestly, you’re both sickening, like a pair of besotted… ”

He kissed her cheek. “Apologies, dearest wife of mine. What have you for me?”

Back in her good graces, she smiled at him with mirth. “Well, as you know you brother asked me to select a Parish in his Kingdom upon which he’ll bestow various gifts, attend a mass at, and so on and so forth in order help bring up his popularity among the people.”

“Not his worst idea, actually. And you’d like my help in the final selection?”

“Pfft, not in the least, I’ve already given it to him, no, this is something that will pique your interest. Three nights ago, if you recall, I found you sat in your chair, quite drunk, as you watched the Chevalier in your bed sound asleep. I asked you if something was wrong and you said…”

“I said that that for all he could be like a viper with his tongue and his wit, when he was in our bed, he was like an angel above me as we made love, and when he slept, I like to look upon him and marvel that he was truly mine. And yes, I was quite drunk.”

“I said you should let him hear those words more often, that they shouldn’t be only be spoke to him when he is asleep.”

“I always mean to, but…”

“You also said, no offense to me of course, that if you could, that you would marry him.”

The look of complete sadness that fell over Philippe’s was truly pitiable. “I’ve known him since I was fifteen years old, and I’ve loved him just as long. We have had some truly terrible times, mostly of our own causing, but in our heart of hearts, we belong to each other mind, body and soul. We are abominations in the eyes of the Church. I love him, and for that I am going to Hell.”

“I know you don’t truly believe that, Philippe. I certainly don’t. You are both good men, and the love you share is beautiful and real.” Philippe nodded in quiet acceptance. Liselotte hugged him and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know you’ve been having rather deep thoughts on your relationship as of late. You two have been very happy, and kind to each other for quite some time.”

“And I aim to keep it that way.”

“Rightly so. That’s part of why I asked you to come.” She presented him again with the page he’d dismissed. Philippe read it in earnest, his eyes widening ever more the further he read. When he was done, he looked at her, astonished and caught somewhere between anger and sorrow.

“So far as we know, Father Etienne has remained at the hermitage until this day. I followed up in the records and each year of the past ten, he’s been marked as still tending the cottage and the chapel. I think you should go to him, with the Chevalier. It’s a day’s ride. If anything, it will break you out of the tedium of the Palace, I wouldn’t even bother asking permission from your brother. But, I think, this fellow might be able to help reconcile the turmoil you’ve been feeling. I know you, Philippe. You may cast off the Church easily enough, but you cannot do the same for God. You want to know if God will still take you, and the Chevalier into the Kingdom of Heaven without having repented and denied your love for each other. Who better to ask than a man who has done so, and spent the last ten years of his life alone, contemplating his decision.”

Hours later, when most of Versailles was sound asleep in their beds, Philippe lay awake contemplating what he’d learned from Liselotte. He was torn between riding out to the secluded spot where a banished Priest endured his endless penance, or leaving him be entirely. He did not want to seek trouble, yet at the same time he was wildly curious to know just what the Priest might have to say. Philippe desperately wanted enlightenment and answers, but in the same breath, he feared them.

“I can hear you thinking,” the Chevalier mumbled. His breath tickled Philippe’s bare chest upon which the Chevalier rest his head. “My love, what troubles you?”

Philippe did not answer straight away, but instead wrapped his arm around the Chevalier’s shoulders and embraced him closely. “Nothing, go back to sleep,” Philippe whispered.

“That’s hardly going to happen when you staring at the ceiling with that look on your face.”

“There’s no look on my face.”

“Darling, I’ve seen that look a thousand times before. Clearly you’re very concerned about something, and it’s my honoured duty to help.” The Chevalier turn in Philippe’s arms to rest his chin on his breast, looking up at himself the bright blue eyes that shone in the moonlight streaming in from the window. “Tell me what ails you, my love.”

“If I asked something of you, something I couldn’t explain, would you do it?”

“Short of murder, I would say yes. Actually, on second thought I’d probably kill for you too. It’s not murder is it?”

“No, nothing like that. It would be a favour to me.”

“In that case, I am happy to oblige whatever my Mignonette desires.”

“I want you to take a trip with me. We would be gone a couple of days only, but it would not be an easy journey, and there would likely be no reward at the end of it. The road would be hard, we’d be on our own, and there’d be none of the comforts of the Palace.”

The look on the Chevalier’s face was one of concern rather than curiosity. He remained silent as he pondered and Philippe admonished himself. Why should he drag his dear man into his folly? The Chevalier loved him without shame and cared not for the condemnation of the Church. He lived for the moment, for Philippe. He did not question the order of the universe, because he did not care for anything but life and love. “Ignore me, it’s a pointless whim of mine, just an idea. We can forget it.”

“My love, we’ll not forget it, not if it’s important to you. Yes, of course I’ll go with you. Though I reserve the right to complain bitterly if the conditions are deplorable.”

Philippe could not mask the sudden and complete joy and relief that bubbled up inside him. There mere fact that the Chevalier would do such a thing for him without hesitation filled his heart near to bursting. The joy turned quickly to an unbridled lust and the Chevalier soon found himself on his back with a very amorous Philippe burying his face in his neck.

“God, I love your skin,” Philippe breathed against the Chevalier’s throat as he kissed it hot and hungry. “The scent drives me mad, I cannot get enough. How you intoxicate me. I want to taste every inch of you.”

The Chevalier said nothing, but surrendered himself completely to whatever Philippe wished to take of him. Whatever his darling’s quarry was, it was evidently of the utmost importance to him. The morning would bring about their quest, but for the next hour or so, they’d give themselves over to each other, flesh to flesh, soul to soul.

The Chevalier sighed wearily when he set his eyes upon the clothing Philippe had laid out for them to wear. There would be no silk or satin, no crimson or sparkling moonlit blues. No there would be black, brown wool and linen in its natural yellowed tinge.

“Mignonette, do you no longer love me?” The Chevalier asked.

Philippe kissed to his cheek, patted his bottom and ran his hand through the Chevalier’s hair, hair that he was not permitted to style, but merely brush out into a mess of wild curls. “I love you very very well, so much so that I’m making you dress not as a noble, who would be a very easy target on the road, but instead as a well to do working man, who is less likely to be shot or accosted as he rides over uncommon roads and through the forests.”

“Ride? Ride? No carriage? My darling, the only stallion I want to ride is you.”

Philippe approached the Chevalier form behind and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, a carriage would draw attention. That is the last thing we want, I assure you. I don’t want my brother to even notice we’re gone. Liselotte promised to make sure that if he does, she’ll tell him how she walked in on us mid-coitus, be very descriptive about I look like with your cock up my ass and hopefully that’ll dissuade him from seeking us out as that we’re likely still at it.”

“I love your wife.”

“I know,” Philippe answered, kissing the Chevalier’s shoulder before letting him go to retrieve something from the hallway. “Do you also love these boots?”

The Chevalier gasped audibly. Black leather, tall to the knees, toes pointed, a solid and sharp heal and laces at the top to secure them. “Oh my love, the are magnificent!”

“And practical for riding and inclement weather. Hence, the coats.”

“The coats?”

Philippe’s second surprise for the Chevalier was a pair of long black leather coats, finely tailored and lined with a black velvet that would stave off any cold. The cuffs were large, as was the collar, complete with cowls to protect their head. “I hate that you’re winning me over.”

“Gloves too.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“We need to not stand out too much, but we’re not eschewing all fashion and comfort. I want us to go unnoticed, and if we are, I want us to look as if we’re not to be trifled with. We’ll take pistols, daggers and swords.”

“Our road is that dangerous?”

“No more than any other, but there is always the potential. I’ll not risk you any more than I must. We cannot take royal guards or an envoy because of who we are going to see, my brother must never know.”

“I was doing this out of love for you, but now I am intrigued.”

Philippe took the Chevalier into his arms again and kissed him. “I am seeking answers to questions I am afraid to ask. No one can possibly answer them save this one person so far as I know. The answers will not change my love for you, that will never change. You are mine forever, as I am yours.”

“Everything but marriage. Shame that, but who needs a silly decree from a Church that’s condemns us to eternal torment just for loving each other.”

“Does that ever trouble you? Is it something you think about?”

“I try not to!” The Chevalier tapped his finger to the tip of Philippe’s nose. “Now, we best set out? You’ve got me up with the sun, which is unspeakably cruel of you, but darling, I do love the boots.”

Philippe watched as the Chevalier set about the task of dressing them. There’d been a look in his love’s eyes, once that Philippe has seen in the mirror more often than not, especially lately. They lived for the present, but they feared for their future, and the fate of their souls.

The ride was hard, exhausting for both men and their horses, and worst of all, it was wet. With their sadle bags loaded with provisions for themselves and their steeds, and little else, the rode from Versailles before most of the palace had awakened, pushing their horses for a solid hour before slowing down and following the map that Philippe had procured. He had another document with him, but he’d not shared it with the Chevalier. When the rains began to fall in earnest, Philippe expected his love to begin to air his gripes about their journey, but remained silent and followed at Philippe’s side.

As the day waned, they turned down a darkened path into a thick forest. They’d barely spoken all day, but Philippe could tell the Chevalier was weary beyond measure and endured for not for his own sake, but for Philippe’s. They were cold, wet, and hungry.

“I’m sorry,” Philippe spoke suddenly. “I will make it up to you when we return, I promise.”

“I hope this is worth it, my love. This has not been an easy day. At least in prison I was allowed to sleep. Not that I slept much at all mind, hardly a wink.”

“We’ll go to Saint-Cloud tomorrow. It’s closer than Versailles. We’ll soak in a hot bath together and stay in bed for a week, just sleeping if you wish.”

The Chevalier nodded and they persisted. At length, after a bend in the road Philippe spied a shape in the distance. As they approached, the setting sun illuminated a small stone edifice, and atop the steeple of it’s thatch roof was a cross.

“A church?” The Chevalier questioned.

“That is our destination. There should be a small stable for the horses, and a hermitage. We’re here to see a Priest.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I hope all will be clear soon enough. If this proves to be folly. I beg your forgiveness.”

“You have it already. And if this is not folly?”

“Then my questions will be answered, and our future decided.”

“Our future? It is in peril?”

“No. No, I misspoke.” Philippe slowed their horses, taking the reigns of the Chevalier’s and guiding his horse close so that their legs touched. He reached across and leaned in to kiss the Chevalier, with all the tenderness his tired, road worn body would muster. “I love you, that will never change. So long as I am alive, I am yours. Nothing will separate us, that is my solemn vow. You are the love of my life, Philippe, Chevalier de Lorraine.”

Somewhat stunned by his love’s proclamation, the Chevalier had no words of reply, but kissed Philippe again before allowing them to ride on. As was anticipated there was a small stable, large enough for only their two stallions. There was hay, damp, though not yet molding, and the horses tucked in to eat their fill after Philippe fed them carrots and apples. He shut them inside, as secure as they could hope for, taking the saddle bags and slinging their weight over both his shoulders. The Chevalier followed after, pulling the cowl over his head as it began to rain again in earnest.

The door to the tiny chapel was slightly ajar, and the light emanating from a single lantern illuminated a single wooden across atop a slab of stone that served as an altar. There were two chairs, and nothing more, and room for nothing more, save for the single figure of a slender framed monk kneeling in prayer. He wore the white robes of a Cistercian though it was tattered and gray from age. The monk’s tonsure had grown long and shaggy, as had his beard. There was a touch of gray throughout, but he was not so old as to be considered elderly.

If he noticed their arrival, he did now show it, as he continued his prayers until their conclusion. He rose somewhat wearily and turned to welcome his visitors with a kind, open face.

“Welcome gentlemen, my apologies for keeping you waiting. I’m afraid you arrived during Vespers,” he spoke, his voice gravelly from disuse. “I have nothing to offer you, I’m afraid, I do not welcome visitors often. But you are welcome to repose in the cottage for the night if you are in need of somewhere to sleep. The hay in the stable is nearly a week old, but it should still be good for your horses. I heard you coming up the road. I know the sounds of the forest at every moment of the day you see and two horses make quite a lot of noise when you’re not used to them.”

“And yet you had hay for them?” Philippe asked. Both men stepped inside, the Chevalier remaining behind his love, waiting to discovery why they had come all this way to see this monk.

“There is a farm not two miles from here. In exchange for my prayers and blessings, the family offers me a bail of hay every two weeks, and food if they can spare it. Now, my sons, how may I help?”

“You are Father Etienne Lambert?”

“I am. You have sought me out? Forgive my surprise. No one has in over ten years, save for my confessor who comes once a year.”

“Yes, we’ve come a long way.”

“The if it pleases you, come inside to the cottage. I will light a fire. I will see what can be found for dinner…”

“Let us feed you, we have more than enough. We come in peace, I swear it.”

“My son, whether you did or did not is of no concern. If you meant me harm, then it is God’s will.”

Father Etienne, gestured for them to lead on and they left the tiny chapel and crossed the distance to the hermitage. It was dark and cold inside, the Father’s lantern their only light now that the sun had set. There were logs in the fire, and the priest added dry hay and kindling to them before striking a flint over and over until finally there was a spark and little by little the fire caught on.

The room was virtually bare, save for a bed stuffed with old hay covered with a blanket there was an empty cauldron by the fire, a pitcher with water, a single cup and a few other meager possessions. There was a short stool near the hearth, and a lopsided table no higher than Philippe’s knees.

“You live more like a Franciscan than a Cistercian,” the Chevalier observed.

“I have forsaken all comforts beyond the bare necessities, as my penance,” the Father answered. “As well as my exile.”

“Exile?”

“Shall we eat first?” Philippe suggested, placing the saddle bags on the ground. For one so used to creature comforts, the Chevalier said nothing as he sat himself on hard stone floor of the hermitage. Philippe sat close, but not too close. The priest’s eyes widened as Philippe brought out bread, cheese and fruit along with a bottle of wine, which he passed to the Chevalier to uncork.

“I could tell by your costumes that you were wealthy men,” the Father observed.

“We do well for ourselves,” Philippe offered, but volunteered nothing else as he divided up the meal between them. The Chevalier filled the Father’s cup with wine and drank from the bottle before passing it to Philippe who took a large gulp of his own.

“Gentlemen, I thank you, this is more than I’ve had in a month!”

“Our pleasure. Eat your fill.”

“May I know your names?”

“By coincidence, we are both called Philippe,” the Chevalier offered, sensing that his love did not wish to volunteer their true identities. “Have you had an orange before?” The Father shook his head, and Philippe smiled and offered him one.

They ate in companionable silence, though Philippe could tell the Chevalier’s patience may have been wearing thin. He did not look at Philippe the entire time they ate. He had been supplicant and biddable since the night before, trusting Philippe implicitly. Philippe would make certain to show the Chevalier how deeply he appreciated the sacrifices that had been made to satisfy Philippe’s whim.

When the hearth gave off a good heat and the fire was roaring, Philippe knew that the time had come. Reaching into his saddlebag he brought out a folded page and opened it to it’s considerable size.

“Before I reveal our purpose in seeking you out, I repeat that we do not intend you harm in any way, though the memories I would ask you to recount to us may do so,” Philippe explained. “This document details what lead to your exile here, as accounted by the Bishop some ten years ago. It has your signature at the bottom as well as his Grace’s as well as that of another Priest.

“Father LeCler,” Father Etienne. “I know what it is you hold in your hand, and it is indeed my signature, and my seal.”

“Then the account is true?”

“No, it is not true.”

“You were falsely accused?”

“I committed the sins that are described, but the Church’s account of what transpired afterwards are entirely false.” It was clear how upset the Father had become since Philippe presented him with the document. There were tears in the priest’s eyes and his body trembled. “They… they tore him from my arms and beat him nearly to death before me…” Father Etienne broke down and his body was wracked with great heaving sobs.

A wave of compassion swept over Philippe and he took the Father by the hand and held it until he calmed.

“You loved him then? Auguste Paget?”

“With all my heart!”

Philippe release him and Etienne violently wiped the tears from his eyes. “Forgive me.”

“No, Father, forgive me. I’m sorry to have caused you this pain.”

“I have not heard Auguste’s name spoken aloud in over a decade. I still remember the sound of his voice and the colour of his eyes. They were green, unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

“Will you tell us your truth? And then I will tell you mine. Please.”

The Father stared long and hard at Philippe, who stared back at him, searching for what his eyes conveyed that his mouth would not speak. It dawned on Philippe that what the Father needed was reassurance. Breaking their stare, Philippe turned to the Chevalier who stared at the fire, merely present and leaving Philippe to pursue his endeavour.

“Are you cold?” Philippe asked. The Chevalier did not realize he was being spoken to until his love reached over and tucked a damp strand of hair behind his ear and caressed the apple of his cheek with his thumb. The Chevalier looked up at Philippe.

“A little, yes, my love,” he answered.

The Father watched as Philippe inched closer to the Chevalier un till he could pull him into his arms and hold him close against his chest. He lay his cheek against the Chevalier’s. He twinned their hands together and the Chevalier relaxed into Philippe’s embrace.

An understanding passed between the three of them, and the Father knew he was in safe hands.

Etienne took another drink of his wine and cleared his throat. “By the looks of you, I would say I was close to your age when I met Auguste. I was already a Monk, and a Priest. He was twelve years younger, a blacksmith, and the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. Our eyes met, and it was love at first sight. We both knew. Auguste’s father had been commissioned by the abbey to build a fence of iron around the cemetery. Grave robbers had been disturbing the rest of our dearly departed and stealing even the clothes they’d been buried in.

The Abbot thought the fence would prevent further desecration. We saw each other every day for a month before we met, but in that time, we’d loved each other having shared nothing but the looks between us. My call to God was true, but it was not absolute. I fled into the bosom of the Church to avoid a marriage to a woman I did not want and could never give her due as husband. I’d had dalliances with men in my youth.”

“I was your first dalliance, wasn’t I, Mignonette?” the Chevalier quipped. Philippe not so discreetly, covered the Chevalier’s mouth with his hand, at the same time as kissing the top of his head.

The Father smiled, though it was sad. “It fills my heart with a joy I’d thought I’d lost long ago, seeing the two of your together.”

“Since we were barely fifteen,” Philippe provided. “There’ll never be another that I shall love so well and so completely as this one, even if he is a perpetual thorn in my side and spends all my money.”

“Yes, darling, but I do make it up to you, often, and in the most creative of ways.”

“Hush, and let the Father tell his story.”

The Chevalier complied and settled in as close to Philippe as possible. After the long and arduous ride, he deserved to be indulged, even if it was just with a cuddle.

“Auguste and I eventually found ways to be around each other. I made it my duty to bring him meals or drink. We began to meet whenever we could manage it, both of us sneaking away from out duties. The fence took five months to build, and during that time we fell as deeply in love as two souls ever could. We had planned to run away together, the consequences be damned. We met one night at our usual place, the stables that belonged to the Abbey. They were situated two miles away and tended by lay brothers of our Order. I would take their confession, and feign believing it was too late to walk the road home, and spent the night in the loft above. August would join me after all were to bed.

But, that fateful night, a meddling, contemptable brother had followed, having had his suspicions. He came, with the Abbot, and Auguste’s father and uncles. They found us, naked together under our blankets. We were asleep in each other’s arms. His father pulled him from my arms and they began to beat him. I thought he was dead. He was nothing but blood and bone when they’d finished with him.

I was taken in hand by the others of my house, and locked in a room in the Abbey for months by myself as penance. Then, the Bishop came, with the very page you now hold in your hand. My ‘confession’ had been written for me. I was to renounce Auguste, our love, and brand him a demon seducer. I learned then that he was alive. If I denied him, he would live, if I did not, the Vatican would have him executed instead of just excommunicated.

It was by my hand that his fate was sealed. He was sent the colonies and I have no word of him since in these past ten years. I know not if he even survived the journey. His last knowledge of me was my condemnation and denouncement of him. What must he have thought of me? For my part, my torture, my punishment was this.” He gestured to the room around him. “There is not a day goes by that I do not relive the memories, and the regret. My true torture however, is the knowledge that the love of my life believed that I did no love him at all.”

Philippe tightened his hold on the Chevalier until the other man gasped for breath. They had been far too lucky in their lives. Philippe was royalty, the brother of the King, and the Chevalier was a noble. Their privilege had sheltered them from the true fate of lovers like themselves.

“If he has half a brain he’d have realized that it was all charade orchestrated by his family and the Church,” The Chevalier offered nonchalantly. Philippe sighed heavily. “What? It’s the truth! Don’t roll your eyes, I can feel you rolling them. The entire time I was in prison, I knew it wasn’t your fault, darling.” The Father gave them a questioning look and the Chevalier waved him off. “Tiny bit of espionage, nothing to write home about. Point is, just because the people connected to Philippe had me locked up, doesn’t mean I thought he was a part of it. Granted I didn’t have a confession with his signature on it, but as I said, if Auguste was smart as he was pretty then he’d realize it was all a set up and that you were probably rotting in a cell somewhere, which you were, so there.”

“Forgive him,” Philippe spoke. “He’s glib and sometimes lack empathy, but he is usually as smart as he is pretty. If I were your Auguste, I’d too believe that you had nothing to do with his being sent to the colonies, and that your confession was coerced. Don’t lose hope. He may not believe as you fear.”

“I fear it’s been too long, a decade. He’ll have forgotten me by now, if God’s been merciful.” The Father sighed, emotionally wrought and his soul laid bare before two virtual strangers. “Now that I’ve told my tale of woe, would you enlighten me as to why you sought me out? I have my guesses. It’s not often men like us are spoken about. In truth, I knew no other than Auguste save for one of the elderly Brothers who was long past the days for love. He spoke only of self-recriminations and sin. His life had been one of inner turmoil and self-loathing. He was who I did not want to become.”

“I’ve never known any other way,” Philippe provided. “When the time came for me, the people around me to start speaking of prospective matches for future matrimony, I was already looking at other boys and men, and then I met this one and all my doubts vanished in an instant.” The Chevalier, warmed by Philippe’s confession, couldn’t help but smile to himself. “I have sought you out, Father Etienne, because I have had a war waging inside me for some time. It was not always there, but it has grown over the years. I now wrestle with the question of whether or not loving another man will condemn my soul, our souls, to Hell. How is it that love, enduring, honest, complete love is wrong? Did God make us as we are, or have we been corrupted?”

The smile had vanished from the Chevalier’s face entirely. He’d not had an inkling before this moment that his Philippe had such morose thoughts. The Chevalier had the same fears, deep down, but had made an art of sloughing off all thoughts of the afterlife and the fate of their souls. The Church told him they were going to Hell for what was purely their nature, so his reasoning was that if there was no peace or love once he died, why not make the most of the time he had in the world and love and enjoy it to the fullest. He couldn’t bare to think of a time when they’d be separated by death. It chilled him to the bone. The Chevalier said nothing but his chin fell to his chest and a shiver went through him.

Philippe sensed the change in the Chevalier demeanour almost instantly. In truth, Philippe had been afraid to speak to his love about the fears and the questions he harboured. He knew also that deep down the man he loved felt those same fears and had those same questions, but had buried them, so far inside himself he could pretend nearly all the time that they didn’t exist, and here and now Philippe had exposed them and left them raw with their agony.

As the Chevalier trembled in his arms, Philippe affirmed his embrace and buried his face in the Chevalier’s hair, closing his eyes and breathing him in.

“And you thought you would ask the man who had spent the last ten years of his life alone contemplating about those very questions, would have the answers?” Etienne asked.

“I could think of no other in all of France who might,” Philippe answered solemnly. He lay his cheek to the back of the Chevalier’s head and kept his hold. He needed the anchor the other man offered. I knew if he let go, he’d drown. “I happened upon your story purely by chance. But if God touches everything, then I want to believe that he led us to you, as he led me to my love all those years ago.”

“As Auguste and I were being torn apart, you two were coming together. I cannot pretend to know the heart or mind of God. Throughout my youth I prayed each and every day for God to change me, to make me desire a woman as I did a man, but nothing changed. Day after day, here for over ten years, I have not changed. The seasons change, people are born, grow, and they die. The birds leave at first frost, and return at first thaw. The sun rises and the sun sets. The moon moves through its phases. The world changes constantly through its cycles, but I do not. We do not. God is all, and he is in all, and that is why I have come to believe that he made us as he wanted us. We are his children. We are made in his imagine, and we are beautiful, valuable creatures, and he does not want us changed.

I escaped and hid behind the Cloth. I allowed myself to be caged, and for a brief few months I was allowed to be free, to be myself, to be true to who God chose me to be, and then I was caged again. If I have learned anything in all my years of contemplative solitude it is this. Our bodies can be put in chains, we can be locked behind doors and surrounded by impenetrable walls, we can be wed to women, but the true imprisonment, the true cage, is the one we put upon ourselves.

God made me as I am, and to fight against his will is where the true sin lies, not with who we share our bed, or who we give our heart to. So no, Philippe, you are not corrupted. Your love is not wrong. Enduring, honest, complete love is beautiful and you should feel no shame in it, no matter what anyone else says or does. When your soul leaves your body, it will be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven and you will know that love is the way.”

A slight smile, a glimmer of hope, and an immeasurable relief suffused Philippe. Etienne smiled at the pair before him, clinging steadfast to each other.

“Perhaps we should start our own Church,” The Chevalier suggested. “It worked for King Henry VIII didn’t it? The Church wouldn’t let him marry Anne Boleyn, so he broke from them and started his own.”

“Yes, and we know how well that turned out for him,” Philippe chided.

“Turned out just fine if you ask me.”

“Not for Anne Boleyn.”

“Then maybe we should just go back to having many gods instead of just the one. The Ancient Greeks were perfectly accepting. Or the Romans. What about Eros? He was all for it.” A mighty crack of lightning streaking across the sky followed by a ground shaking roll of thunder startled all of them, making them jump in their skins. “Right, not going back to more than one God, sorry.”

Philippe chuckled and kissed the Chevalier before letting go of him and rising to his feet. “I’m going to check on the horses and make sure they’re secure. Father, if we may impose upon you for the night?”

“Gentlemen, you are most welcome. I insist you take the bed, the stone floor is…” the Father began but Philippe waved him off.

“We’ll be content by the fire. We’ll not push you from your bed.” Philippe looked at the Chevalier, amused by his expression at the realization he was going to be spending the night without his pillows and usual comforts. He sighed, resigned, and gave Philippe the most pitiful look.

Once Philippe had disappeared out into the night, the Father followed after him, but went towards the chapel for the prayers of Compline. The Chevalier look around the room, which was little more than a hovel and hoped the thatch roof above their heads hadn’t any leaks. He let out a weary breath and busied himself making some sort of bed for them. At lay down one of their lavish coats, grateful the velvet lining was soft.

He folded the other to fashion a pillow to fit both their heads. He hoped the fire was enough to keep them warm. He imagined the little hut could grow frightfully cold. To be sure, he added another pair of logs to the fire. There were too many thoughts in his head to sort through them all or to articulate them. What he needed most of all was a good night’s rest.

When the door opened, the Chevalier turned to behold his love. The rain had begun again in earnest and against the silhouette of the lightning flashing in the distance, Philippe was an imposing figure. But once was the door was shut, and with it the world outside banished, it was just the two of them.

“He’ll be at prayer for at least an hour,” Philippe spoke, and did not move from the entrance.

“Why is there this distance between us, my love?” The Chevalier asked, opening his arms to Philippe. “Should we not be in each other’s arms?”

Philippe did not waste another moment and flew into the Chevalier’s embrace, holding on to the other man for dear life. He could not prevent the tears that fell down his face. His voice broke in an sob and he buried his face at the Chevalier’s neck and wept.

For his part, the Chevalier cradle Philippe’s head and soothed him as best he could. “Oh, my darling, I had no idea you were in such turmoil. You should have told me.”

“I did not wish to have you feel for one moment that I wouldn’t put you above all others, even the Church. I am so tired of being told that what we have, what we do, is an abomination. I haven’t cared all these years, honestly, but with Louis’ wife exerting her influence on court, and on him, I feared for our future. I fear they will try and take you from me.”

“I won’t give them cause.”

“I know. I know. I trust you, but this is something bigger than us.”

“It needn’t be.”

“But it is. While we enjoy the protection of my position, others like us are persecuted relentlessly. I’ve been blind to their suffering.”

“Perhaps you can talk to your brother? Pained as I am to admit it, he’s not completely unreasonable.”

“I will try, but I fear Madame de Maintenon’s influence it too great, and with it the Church that condemns us.”

“You’ll do the best you can, my love. If anything, we can follow the good Father’s advice and not be ashamed of our love. Let history remember that no matter what, we loved each other all our lives.”

“I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you too, Philippe. An hour you say?”

“At least.”

“Hmm… we should probably get some sleep.”

“We probably should, yes.”

The touch of their lips and tongues made it clear that the next hour would not be spent asleep. When Father Etienne returned to his abode after having said a few extra prayers for his two guests. He found them asleep in in their place by the fire, their clothes rumpled and askew, and the priest smiled, knowingly. He’d not rushed his duties for a reason. They lay facing each other, noses and foreheads touching and their arms holding on to each other, afraid they’d drift apart from each other in the night. The pain of want and ache of regret he felt in that moment brought tears to his eyes. He’d had what they did, but all too briefly. He missed Auguste every second of every hour of every day. When they’d taken him away, they’d taken half of Etienne’s soul.

Despite his sorrow, seeing the two Philippes had brought him a certain amount of joy and peace. He may have been denied a love everlasting, but his fate had not been the fate of all like him. The pair asleep on his floor by his hearth had already been together for longer than he and Auguste had been apart. There was mercy in the world after all. Etienne went to his bed that night, feeling a little more hope, something he’d not felt in a very long time.

In the morning, Philippe and the Chevalier had left the Father, and with him nearly all they’d brought with them, including Philippe’s fine leather coat. As they mounted their horses and rode away, they promised to return, and bring with them a few more comforts for their new friend.

As they approached Saint-Cloud after a long day’s ride in the crisp but sunny weather, they slowed and rode companionably side by side. Both were looking forward to a hot bath, an abundant meal, and retiring to their lush bed. They’d been reserved the night before, and wanted to make love properly and fully. But for the time being their desires for each other were quenched and could wait a few more hours.

“Question for you, my darling,” the Chevalier asked, upon setting his eyes upon Saint-Cloud in the distance.

“You know, every time you say ‘my darling’, ‘my love’, or call me your ‘stallion’ or ‘mignonette’, I feel a tremendous urge to take you and have my wicked way with you.”

“Why do you think I do it, dear one of my heart?” The Chevalier winked him and Philippe grinned. “And I called you my stallion because you’ve got a prize winning marrow in your breeches. My question, owner of my body, mind, heart and soul, is, when did the King last have a census taken of his colonies in the Americas?”

“I believe last year in fact. Incidentally, my ass can attest to the fact that you measure up to Bucephalus himself, which I intend to take advantage of later this evening. Now, what pray tell are you thinking?”

“That as Prince of the Realm, you’re perfectly within your rights to send someone off to the colonies. You could provide him with papers, and a commission with your Royal Seal affixed upon it. In fact, you could set him up for life in a position of great esteem and security. And would it be convenient, if he had, let’s say a distant cousin already there. Something the census would tell us.”

“You are nothing short of a genius, apple of my eye.”

“I’ve always thought so. I mean, really, would the Vatican concern itself if a hovel of a hermitage one year found itself without its hermit? Maybe he went foraging in the woods and met an ill fate? Never to be seen again, just disappeared.”

“I’ve never loved you more than in this moment.”

“You’ll love me quite well in about an hour.”

“I’ll hold you to that. When we return to Versaillles, we should enlist Liselotte, being as she set all this in motion. She sensed my internal conflict and found the solution.”

“We have a great deal to thank her for. I must admit, it’s quite nice knowing that your wife loves and supports us as she does. It would be shame if she didn’t.”

“She is a true friend to us a both and we are lucky to have her.”

“Indeed. Leave it to me, my love, our Princess and I shall divine the perfect course for Etienne Lambert, soon to be Paget, second cousin of Auguste, the Blacksmith.”

“I’ll order a copy of the census be provided to us, to see where he’s settled. I’ll send letters ahead to our offices in the colonies. We will do right by him.”

“It’s the least we can do. Did his words truly give you the answers your sought?”

“They did. He has brought me the peace my soul needed.”

“Then the debt we owe him can never truly be repaid, but we shall all we can for him.”

“If what we offer is what he wants.”

“My love, were it me, I would move heaven and earth to be reunited with you.”

“Perhaps in another world, in another time, the Church will not have such a strangle hold on the lives of people like us. Perhaps maybe even one day, people like us will be allowed to be their true selves, to be left in peace, perhaps even be allowed to marry.”

“Should that place ever come into existence, should that time ever come, I would have you for my husband.”

“We already are, in every way what matters.”

A month passed before their plans came together. In that time, Philippe and the Chevalier discovered that Auguste was alive, unmarried, and working as a blacksmith in the colony of the New Orleans. He had no dependants. Liselotte came upon further church records, dating back to a time before Etienne’s ‘disgrace’. He was a gifted scribe and calligrapher, which give Philippe the perfect commission to grant his new friend. The Chevalier’s task was the most difficult, but with his family’s various nefarious connections, he’d been able to acquire Etienne’s new identity, including a birth certificate, with paper and ink appropriate to over fifty years past. Signatures were expertly forged to create a history for the man, but the one signature that was true, was that of Philippe, Duc D’Orleans.

The second time Philippe and the Chevalier came to the hermitage, it was with two carriages, a host of Musketeers and Royal Guard fit to protect the brother of the King. They must’ve made an incredible commotion as they travelled the long road deep into the forest, a host of more than forty people and horses.

A very confused and almost terrified Father Etienne stood outside his home, wringing his hands as the first carriage stopped right before him. The footman jumped down the second the carriage came to a full stop, quickly setting about pulling down the steps down and laying out a carpet for them to stand upon. The captain of the guard opened the door to the carriage, and Philippe emerged.

“The Duc D’Orleans!” was announced, and with his great hat, complete with plumes, stepped down and turned to office his hand to his companion and love as the second man was proclaimed. “The Chevalier de Lorraine!” The Chevalier stood straight, the bright blue plums of his own magnificent apparel fluttering in the breeze. The Father had already bowed his head and did not take note of the faces.

“My friend, you need never bow to me,” Philippe spoke. Etienne’s head snapped up and he beheld the pair that stood hand in hand before him. Dressed in finery that seemed to have been spun by the hosts of Heaven. The Chevalier had been responsible to dressing them. He wanted to render their friend speechless before springing their surprise upon him. The prayed he’d welcome the chance to have a new life.

“You… you…” Etienne stammered.

“Yes, he is,” the Chevalier confirmed. “Prince of France, Brother of the King, and the Duc of D’Orleans, and the love of my life.”

“And you… you…”

“A The Chevalier de Lorraine, yes.”

“And the love of my life,” Philippe added. “We apologize for our previous deception, Father. Understand that we didn’t have my brother’s leave…”

“Not that we have it now either, of course,” the Chevalier laughed.

Philippe smiled, taking off his hat and tossing it back in the carriage, the Chevalier following suit. “My brother isn’t paying much attention to me at the moment, which makes for quite a pleasing day to day life. If we may go inside, we have something to discuss with you.”

***

_One year and eleven months later…_

“Wake up,” came Philippe’s voice over his love’s ear, follow a gentle shaking of his shoulder.

“No, you come back to bed,” the Chevalier replied with a yawn as he burrowed further into his pillows and coverlets. “I want my Prince.”

“It’s well past noon already, besides, we have a letter.”

With his eyes still shut, the Chevalier stretched languidly and settled on his back as Philippe sat down at his hip.

“A letter?”

“Yes, open your eyes.” The Chevalier did as he was bade and smiled at the sight that greeted him. Philippe was clearly no more interested in rousing for the day than he was, clad in only his night shift and dressing gown. The Chevalier’s hand emerged from under the covers and snuck under Philippe’s clothing to caress his bare thigh. Philippe held up the slips of paper folded between his fingers.

“This was tucked in between the pages of one of the ledger’s that came this morning, sent to me by my magistrate in the colonies.”

Philippe smiled when precisely what he was inferring dawn upon the Chevalier’s face. “Etienne Lambert? He risked a personal letter, to us?”

“Remember, he’s Etienne Paget now. It was a small risk, my love. The seals were unbroken on the books, and the wrappings tight and clean.” Philippe leaned in and bestowed a kiss on the other man’s cheek. “No one would dare interfere with my property until it reached France, and even then no one but my brother’s interference would be expected. Nowadays he genuinely couldn’t care less about the taxes and reports on my lands on the other side of the world. Besides, he has long ceased trying to rule me now that we’ve settled in our lives together. He prefers me here with you at St. Cloud, staying out of trouble. I’m far more biddable when left to my own for long periods of time.”

“Have you read it?”

Philippe shook his head. “Not yet, whether it brings good or bad news, I thought we should read it together.”

“I’ll listen.”

“Very well.”

The Chevalier closed his eyes and Philippe opened the letter. Much like the ledgers Etienne had completed over the past year, the letter was written in his meticulous pointed pen script.

_My dear friends,_

_I trust my letter finds you both well and…._

“Skip to the good part,” the Chevalier urged. “Unless there isn’t one, then just burn the thing and…. There is a good part, isn’t there?”

“Quiet and let me read.” Philippe read as quickly as his eyes to take in the words, searching for mention of Auguste, of their reunion, of anything that would bring a smile to the face of the man in his bed. “Ah!”

“Ah? Yes, go on!”

_After four months in the colonies, I found him, my dear Auguste. He was so changed, his face weathered by age and much toil, but his eyes had not changed and when they met mine I could not keep my tears at bay. We were in each other’s arms in an instant. I implored that he was to pretend we were cousins, to come to my home where all would be explained. His listened. He listened for hours as I told him of all that had transpired since that fateful day we were torn apart, and God’s mercy was upon me for he believed me. There was no time for regret or recriminations. We are whole and we are together in secret, sharing our home, our bed, our lives and yes, our very souls. Love has been tested beyond the extreme and it has won. Love has won!_

“There is more, but…”

“That will do for now, Mignonette, it’s enough to know they’re together.” The Chevalier plucked the letter from his love’s hand and tossed it in the general direction of the bedside table. “Take your shift off and get back in bed with me. You know, we should see if we can find more men of our persuasion in the prisons, those who’ve been locked up just for that, send them off to the colonies and Etienne can minister to them, take care of them, create a whole community in secret. Fill the colonies with them, I say.”

“Darling, that’s actually not a terrible idea.”

“I’m full of terrible ideas, but no, that isn’t one of them. Why aren’t you naked yet?”

Philippe sighed and rolled his eyes, before rising and dropping the shift from his shoulders before crawling back between the covers as the Chevalier lifted them. Settling atop his beloved, he took possession of his lips for a deep and satisfying kiss. “You are wanton and capricious, but you have a good heart, my dearest Chevalier. I love you so, husband.”

“I love you too, husband. I do love saying that.”

“Incidentally, did you hear? The latest priest finally packed it in. He lasted just over two years, I’m going to miss him.”

“Oh really? I wonder why?”

“It couldn’t have been something you said, could it? Hmm? At your last confession?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“All I said was that drinking from your cock was as holy to me as drinking from the cup of Christ. I suppose in hindsight that _might’ve_ sent him over the edge.”

“Indeed.”

“Why are we still talking? Fuck me already! And then feed me, I’m starving.”

“I am very amenable to that. You genuinely are the worst.”

The Chevalier smiled, rather proud of himself. “Come now, give me something worthwhile to confess to the new Priest once he arrives.” And Philippe proceeded to do just that.

The End


End file.
